The air in the corridor stills as you step forward, the light around you dimming into a pearlescent haze. Suddenly, you feel you are no longer in the cave. A vast sky stretches above you, bruised with storm and streaked with fire and lightning. Below, an endless battlefield: dragons of every hue clash with twisted abominations — undead, skeletal giants, winged liches. Above them all hangs a massive celestial scale, impossibly large, suspended in the heavens. On one side: radiant wings, fire, breath, life. On the other: cold, rot, silence. The scales waver… almost perfectly balanced.
Then, you begin to feel it as the smoke from the middle of the battlefield gusts away. You stand there and feel the weight of your presence. The scales begin to stir judging the weight of your prescence. You sense the choice isn’t about right or wrong. It’s about when you act, and why. Do nothing, and let time sort truth from ruin. Intervene… and you may tip the cosmic balance before its time.
